Come To Me By Moonlight
by charis100
Summary: Gil-galadOFC. A short piece written for a fanfiction challenge. An elleth has a dream...


Disclaimer: All Lord of the Rings/Silmarillion characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I have just taken and played for a while.

Beta: None

He knelt before me and taking both my hands in his pressed his lips   
against them. His eyes were deep gazing pools in which I had drowned  
myself many a time. They looked upon me now in love, and their light  
was soft and tender.  
"If I am lost…"  
I began to protest vehemently, as if the words alone would negate  
the dread I felt in my heart. Dread of his going, for some deep   
knowledge, which I tried to put aside, told me I would not look upon  
his beloved face again.  
I felt my knees weaken and collapsed upon them, weeping softly, in   
front of him, my hands still clasped within his.  
He hushed me and placed a gentle caress upon my forehead before   
continuing softly  
"If I am lost, come to me by moonlight." And then he stood and was   
gone.

Pain and grief wrenched my heart and it was some days before I  
pondered his words and, not understanding them, locked them away to  
be taken and looked at again later.

Some weeks after he left me I had a dream. I dreamt I followed a   
procession upon a straight road through hills. The land through  
which we passed was dark and silent. The company were clothed all in  
black and the women were weeping softly. As I looked about me in  
wonder I could see the procession was made up of both Men and Elves,  
though the men seemed as noble and fair-faced as their elvish  
companions. No footsteps we made and when I tried to speak, I  
realised my voice had been stolen away. My companions on either side  
appeared to give me no regard and it seemed that while I followed  
them, I was not one of them.

I walked along the company, gazing in curiosity at those beautiful   
faces, men and women, elves and ellith, their countenances solemn  
and terrible. At the head of them, three elves and three men walked,   
bearing upon their shoulders a bier, draped in black cloth. My  
breath caught in my throat as I realised it was a procession of the  
dead. Yet it seemed to me that although the bearers bowed under some   
weight, the bier upon their shoulders was empty.

I looked about me in despair. I did not recognise the lands through   
which we passed but upon the horizon stood a great tower, tall and   
elegant. Bright against the night sky, it glowed white and looking  
up I could see the full moon between wind-scudded clouds. In its   
highest reaches a golden light shone as if a beacon to guide the way  
and suddenly a voice cried out  
"Weep! For the King of the Elves is fallen in battle and his like  
shall not be seen again in this Middle Earth"  
Hearing the voice I cried out and stumbled, and waking found the  
details of the dream were as vivid to me as the morning sunlight now  
filling my room.

It was several weeks after, the herald brought the news of victory  
to us. Sauron the Deceiver was defeated and the lands of Middle  
Earth free. But he also brought the news my mind refused to hear –   
though my heart already knew it. My lord was lost, taken by the  
Valar upon the plain of Golgoroth and I begrudged them their prize.

I would never see his shining face again, nor feel his soft breath   
upon my cheek nor lose myself once again in the deep pools of his   
eyes.

I took myself to lonely places – for although his people grieved,   
the mourning was mixed with the joy of victory. I wished only to  
lose myself in the blackness of my sorrow.

I sought out an ancient elf who was often used to interpret such   
things and told him what I had seen. He looked upon me in pity and  
his eyes and voice were gentle.  
"You already know what it is you saw." His eyes looked upon me   
kindly. He turned away and drew from a book-filled shelf a map,  
rolling it open upon the table.  
"The Tower you saw is the Tower of Elostirion." He pointed with his   
finger upon the parchment. "The procession you saw was taking the   
Straight Road to the Grey Havens."  
"But he will not travel to those Blessed Lands" I cried out in   
despair. "His body was broken upon the field of battle. No ship can  
bear him hence."  
"They do not take his body." The elf smiled kindly at me. "They bear  
his spirit. To Valinor."  
He rolled the map and turned away from me to replace it on the shelf   
and I heard his voice saying  
"Get thee to Elostirion. It is a two day journey and the full moon  
will rise in two."  
I bowed with thanks and left him, my mind in turmoil. I heard a  
voice, distant in my mind "Come to me by moonlight."

The elf turned back from replacing the map and frowned in surprise  
at the now empty room. He had been about to tell her the Tower was  
two days journey away and coincidentally the first night of the full   
moon was also in two days – but she was gone.

I prevailed upon the horse master to allow me the fastest horse in  
the stables and he did not refuse. The lines of the map I recalled,  
as if imprinted on my mind. I did not stop to rest, passing over  
hills and streams, over plains and through forests, I sought the  
Tower of Elostirion.

Late upon the third day I reached it, and slipping off the horse,  
secured him at the foot of its pillar of white stone. The last light  
of day was fading from the western sky.

I climbed the many steps in silence, my footsteps echoing upon the   
cold stone, my mind bent upon one thought, to see again the strange   
procession of my dream. There was a lantern set upon the window  
ledge at the top of the tower and I lit it, grateful of its warm  
golden light.

Many hours it seemed I waited until at last I saw it. Winding about  
the road, running through the hills, the company followed their  
path, black-clad as in my dream. Yet the bier they bore at their  
head was not empty. Upon it lay the figure of my lord, clad all in   
silver, upon his brow a shining star and his spear Aiglos laid  
beside him in honour. I wept to see him so but at that very moment  
some power swept through me and I cried out with a voice strong and   
true  
"Weep! For the King of the Elves is dead and his like shall not be  
seen again in this Middle Earth"

At last the procession passed from my sight along the road to the  
seas and my eyes grew dim with tears and weariness. I felt myself  
falling into sleep for the first time since the dream and I honoured  
his name as I did so  
"My lord. My Gil-galad."


End file.
